


Intoxicated Silly Wand Waving

by DarthMittens



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-25 13:04:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20026303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthMittens/pseuds/DarthMittens
Summary: One year removed from a nasty breakup and worried about repeating the mistakes of his past, Harry finds himself on the fence about how to handle the confusing feelings he's recently been having about his bushy-haired best friend. Luckily, it's Ron's 20th birthday, and Firewhisky and drinking games are here to help. One-Shot. H/Hr. Considerable fluff.





	Intoxicated Silly Wand Waving

** Intoxicated Silly Wand Waving **

"Come on, Harry." Harry's breath curled in the frigid air in front of him as he hyped himself up. "You can do this."

He took a few quick, short breaths, then raised his fist to the door for what had to be the tenth time. He had been out in the snowy March night for five minutes already.

All he had to do was knock, but that was the problem, when it really came down to it. He didn't want to knock. He hated parties. Or at least, _recently_ he hated parties; he had never minded them before. Back when he was with Ginny and life was fun and easy. Back when everything made sense.

But that was almost a year ago—things were different now. Life was no longer fun and easy, and it _definitely_ didn't make any sense. Especially when—

"Do you need me to teach you how to knock?"

Especially when she was around. He turned his head slightly and his gaze found warm, brown eyes twinkling with mirth. He had to imagine the accompanying smile, seeing as how her mouth was currently covered by a scarf, but that wasn’t too difficult.

"And exactly how long have you been standing there watching me flounder before offering any help?" he said dramatically. He had been so focused on the door that he hadn't heard her approach, and he could only hope he hadn't made a complete fool of himself.

"It's only been a few seconds but based on the look on your face I imagine you've been here a few minutes already," she said, shrewd as ever. Her gaze rose to the top of his head. "You've also got a neat little pile of snow on your head from standing out here so long."

"And it'll only be a few minutes more until I finally knock on the door. I've worked up about fifty percent of my courage." He gave her his most pitiable look.

Hermione rolled her eyes and, before Harry could stop her, reached forward and rapped her knuckles against the door. "Honestly," she muttered. "I'm not waiting in the cold just because you're afraid of Ginny."

"Ouch." She wasn't wrong, though. "You'd be afraid too if you saw the...er..._creative_ hexes she threw at me the last time I saw her." Harry still had nightmares about the night he had broken up with her.

"It's been ten months, Harry. You know how Ginny is. She'll have bounced back by now."

Harry let out a shaky laugh through chattering teeth. Maybe it was for the best that Hermione had taken the initiative and knocked. "I felt more confident walking to my death against Voldemort," he joked.

Hermione bristled, shooting him a glare that could have cut steel.

"Sorry," he mumbled. Apparently, there were things she had nightmares about, too. Mentioning the Forbidden Forest incident around her was one of the easiest ways to invoke her fury—telling her what he had done that night had been a mistake she wasn't going to let him forget any time soon. It had been nearly two years since that night, and she hadn't relented even one bit.

The door swung open quickly—music, voices, and blessed warmth spilling out from the flat as Ron stumbled into view with a novelty Muggle party hat atop his head. "Hey, it's my two bess friends in the whole wide world!" he slurred loudly, leaning forward and throwing his arms around their shoulders. Harry didn't know if it was an attempt at a group hug or if their inebriated best friend had fallen and was using them as a crutch.

"Happy birthday, mate," Harry said, giving his friend a pat on the back and helping him back inside. It was loud and packed, but the warmth was a thousand times better than remaining in the cold, Harry decided as he took off his coat. Hermione had made a good call after all.

"Happy birthday, Ron," Hermione added. "I see you ignored my advice to pace yourself."

Ron grinned. "George gave me one-a-those potions that helps you stay up real late and stops the hangover. I'm good."

_ Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Miracle Drinking Tonic _. Harry was familiar with it from his days with Ginny. It was known for being a great solution for the regular consequences of imbibing copious amounts of alcohol but came at the cost of the next day mostly being spent on the toilet. It didn't try to hide that side-effect either, instead choosing to embrace it by slapping a slogan on the bottle that read, 'Stealing a bit of happiness from tomorrow for a better today!' Harry planned on never drinking the stuff again in his life, if he could help it.

Ron gave a sweeping gesture at his flat, and Dean Thomas, who was standing right behind Ron, ducked under the wild arm movement just in the nick of time. "Food's in the kitchen, bathroom's down the hall. Drinks are...er...everywhere. I'm gonna go find a witch to party with now."

Harry arched an eyebrow at Hermione and received a raised eyebrow in return as Ron stumbled off toward the couch in the sitting room. He must have been even worse than he let on if he had to remind Harry and Hermione where the bathroom was. They had been to his flat dozens of times since he had moved in a year and a half ago.

Then Hermione laughed as she took her scarf off and shrugged off her coat, which Harry took from her to put in the closet with his own coat. "Well, we might as well have some fun, too."

"Oh?" Harry asked, bumping her shoulder with his. "Is someone actually going to drink for once? Drunk Hermione hasn't made an appearance since a certain incident at her birthday party last year, and I sure would love to see her again."

Hermione huffed indignantly as if offended, but Harry could see a hint of red creep into her cheeks. He would be embarrassed, too, if he had somehow managed to pass out in the backyard grass of Hermione's parents' house with a very unamused Crookshanks in his arms and the aftermath of a peanut butter binge in his hair. "I'm not opposed to it. We'll see where the night takes us."

Harry gave a little fist pump.

"But you're drinking if I am," Hermione tacked on. "I'm not taking the chance of making a fool of myself again unless you're right there with me."

Harry froze for only an instant. He hadn't drank since he and Ginny had broken up. He wasn't necessarily opposed to it, but he had no clue what his tolerance would be like after going without it for so long. It was a gamble. But if it meant an appearance of drunk Hermione...

"Is that a challenge?" he asked, grinning.

Hermione tilted her head and bit her lower lip as she considered it, eyes dark and smoldering as she held his gaze. Then she winked at him and slid into the crowd toward the sitting room.

Harry let out a long, slow breath he hadn't known he was holding, heart racing. Those looks of hers were becoming more and more frequent as of late, and Harry didn't know what to make of them. Those damn looks were the reason life was so confusing right now, and the second reason why he had been dreading parties lately. One of these days, she was going to give him one of those looks and he was going to snap and say something stupid that would ruin their friendship forever. The worst part was he knew she had no idea she was causing him so much internal turmoil. She was just being Hermione and he was blowing it way out of proportion in his imagination.

Harry sighed and put his and Hermione's coats away, weaving through the crowd to the hallway closet, then back through the crowd again to get some food. As he loaded his plate, Harry looked over the counter and into the adjacent dining/sitting room. The flat was full of people, but they were all familiar faces—Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna, George, Bill, Fleur, their entire class of 1998 Gryffindor classmates, a few of Ron and Harry's fellow Aurors, and, of course, Ginny, sulking in a corner by herself with a bottle of mystery alcohol, among others. Hell, even Percy had popped by.

Ron's London flat, which he had moved into just a few months after the Battle of Hogwarts ("I just need some bloody space is all"), was large enough for a single person—or even a couple—to live in comfortably, but it definitely wasn't built to house a party with this many people. Most of the partygoers were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, and those who were trying to talk to one another had to do so with their faces just an inch or two apart. It seemed impossible to navigate the throng without accidentally spilling a drink or two. That being said, the limited space seemed to make the party even livelier, and everyone seemed to be having a good time, if Harry had his finger on the pulse of things as well as he thought he did.

Plus, the sheer amount of people meant Harry would have a buffer between himself and Ginny, if it came to that. There were plenty of people at the party who would help him if he needed to make a hasty retreat. Speaking of Ginny...Harry couldn't spot her in the corner he had seen her in earlier. That wasn't good.

"Harry," the frigid voice he had been dreading said from directly behind him.

_ Shit _. "Hi, Ginny," Harry said, forcing a smile onto his face as he turned to face her. She looked pissed and angry, which couldn't mean anything good was in store for him.

"So, showing up with Hermione, huh?" she asked in mock disbelief. Harry's smile slid off his face. _This_ again. "What a coincidence."

Hermione, of course, had been a strain on their relationship from day one when they had been going out. Ginny had never quite been able to wrap her head around Harry having a good female friend who he didn't want to hook up or fool around with. Harry thought that said a lot about her own relationships with men, but he had always kept that to himself, and for good reason. However, Harry was beginning to think Ginny might have been on to something, if recent developments in his life and, more specifically, his taste in women, were any indication.

With Ginny he had felt a sort of primal attraction, vividly imagining the wild activities the two of them could get up to within the limited confines of a bed, and not much beyond that. Guilt crept through Harry bit by bit as flashes of how he had been imagining Hermione lately raced through his mind. There was physical attraction and imagination like there had been with Ginny, sure, but more and more he found himself eating a meal alone in his flat imagining what life would be like if Hermione was sitting across from him, or when he was reading a Quidditch magazine on his couch, he caught himself smiling as he pictured Hermione sitting in the adjacent armchair reading a book, sharing quiet, relaxing time with her. He had never imagined doing any of these things with Ginny. He had never imagined life with her.

He didn't know what exactly he wanted from his relationship with Hermione, or if he wanted whatever it was he was imagining badly enough to risk their friendship for it, but there was no doubt that there was at least a seed of a feeling more than friendship there. It was young and budding, but there was no denying it.

"Is there a point in me trying to justify myself?" Harry asked back, his voice equally icy. He was at a party for his best friend's birthday and didn't really want to spend the duration of it being berated by his ex—he was trying to put an end to it here and now before Ron and the rest of the party caught on to what was happening.

"No, I already know you two have been fucking since the instant you broke up with me." Harry could see the anger and betrayal raging in her eyes. "Do you really think I'm stupid enough to believe it's a coincidence Hermione broke it off with my brother just a week before you broke up with me?"

Harry let his mouth fall open in mock surprise. Anger would have been the normal response to Ginny's accusation, but this wasn't the first time she had brought this up to him. Because of this, he knew just how to respond. "You mean I've been getting laid this whole time without knowing it? I'm better at this than I thought."

Ginny looked ready to blow at Harry's sarcastic clap-back, which meant something bad was about to happen, so he quickly pushed past her before she could gather her thoughts and made his way into the crowd before the situation escalated into party-foul levels of messiness—he wasn't about to let Ron's birthday party be ruined so easily. He was mildly upset at himself for rising to Ginny's bait, since he knew it would have been better for them both if he had just ignored her, which had been his original plan. Now all he could do was keep her as far away from him as he could for the rest of the night to avoid another altercation.

Harry juggled two full plates as he weaved through the crowd and plopped himself on the couch between Hermione, who had an timid smile on her face, and Ron, who was turned to the side and trying his best to drunkenly flirt with Parvati Patil, who wasn't having any of it. As Harry set his and Hermione's plates down on the table, he noticed a shot of Firewhisky placed directly in front of each of them. He looked over at Hermione, who gave him a conspiratorial grin. "I could see you talking to Ginny over there.," she half-shouted over the music. "Thought you might need a bit of a pick-me-up."

"See where the night takes us my arse," Harry grumbled even as he grabbed the shot.

"Cheers!" Hermione laughed, clinking their glasses together.

The shot went down in an instant, but the scalding fire that raced through his system lasted nearly twenty seconds. He felt himself begin to sweat, and he could see Hermione was experiencing something similar even as she grinned at him. Firewhisky had never been Harry's go-to because he already ran hot as it was, but the stuff was popular at parties—it had a cinnamon taste to it that made it almost too sweet for Harry's tastes, but the ladies always seemed to love it.

"Y'know, when I said I would drink, I was intending on drinking beer," Harry said before taking a bite of food.

Hermione laughed. "Where's the fun in that?" she asked. "It's a party, Harry, and I intend to have fun. The sooner I start feeling something, the sooner I can be social with all these people here."

Hermione had a point. Harry had no problem fitting in when it came to social situations involving a lot of people, but Hermione had always had a bit of trouble being outgoing, instead choosing to hang out in a corner with the few people she was close to. Alcohol helped her come out of her shell a bit.

"Well, let's eat up to give ourselves a bit of a cushion. I’d hate to see a repeat of your birthday," Harry teased.

"Ha ha," Hermione said, voice flat. She took a big bite of her food, though.

The rest of the meal passed in silence as they ate, watching the people closest to them have fun and let loose. Moments like these were precious, especially considering what a lot of them had been through. Harry cherished every one of them.

Once they were finished, Ron suddenly stood up next to Harry, jostling him a bit, and shouted, "Who wants to play some beer Quidditch?"

A small chorus of 'Ayy!'s went up around the room, and a few people were forced into the narrow hallway as Ron made a clearing in his sitting room. The open space gave Harry line of sight to Ginny, who was glaring absolute daggers at him and Hermione, which they both pretended not to see. Instead, they turned their attention to Ron, who had filled twenty cups with beer. He pulled out his wand, hesitated for a second, then turned to Hermione and said, "'Ermione, can you do the charm? I'm just gonna mess it up."

There was a chorus of laughs, which Harry joined in on as Hermione pulled out her wand and gave it a few flicks. The cups raised into the air, ten per side, forming the shape of an upside-down pyramid, before turning until the tops were pointing at each other horizontally. There was a spell in place to keep the beer from spilling out, which made for an odd effect as the liquid sloshed against an invisible lid while the cups slowly drifted until they were about six feet apart. Then, Hermione balled up a napkin and tapped it with the tip of her wand, turning it into a table tennis ball, which Ron snatched up.

"You're the best," he said. "Parvati, you with me?"

Parvati pursed her lips, then sighed. "I suppose, since it's your birthday and all." She stepped up next to him and mean-mugged the crowd, fully embracing her role as the birthday boy's teammate.

Harry laughed, a grin on his face as Ron's overwhelming joy spread to him. It was impossible to be unhappy when his best friend was having so much fun. His laugh suddenly stopped, though, as Ron pointed a finger right at him. "Harry, you gotta square off with me. Take your pick for your teammate, it won't matter. This and chess are all I can beat you in." Harry sucked in a breath, pretending to be apprehensive, then grinned again and stood up. He loved beer Quidditch, and he planned on making Ron eat his words. "Oh, and take another shot, too. You're too sober. It isn't fair."

Some hollers came from the crowd, especially from the Auror side, as Harry downed not one, but two shots of Firewhisky at once, cringing as the liquor burned his throat and down into his chest and stomach again. Harry saw a familiar glint in Hermione's eyes as she matched his two shots. She had taken his challenge seriously and had no intention of backing down—which made her the ideal teammate, honestly. Harry knew she was the only person in the room who hated losing just as much as he did.

He held out a hand to her and helped her up from the couch, grimacing as he felt how sweaty both their hands were after their shots of Firewhisky. What was nice, though, was Hermione smiling at him in a way he knew was a smile only he had ever seen, making his heart race. _Calm down, you_, Harry thought desperately even as a stupid smile of his own made its way to his face. _It's just Hermione_. _It's just Hermione. Don't do anything you’re going to regret._

"Do you want to discuss strategy first?" Hermione asked as she took her spot next to him adjacent to the cups opposite Parvati and Ron's.

Harry arched an eyebrow at her. "Win?" he said tentatively.

Hermione held a finger to her lips as she considered the suggestion. "I think just winning is boring," she said after a couple seconds. "Let's up the ante: whichever one of us pots more balls this game gets to make the other person do one thing of their choosing. No ifs ands or buts."

Harry felt his mouth go dry as dozens of scenarios flashed through his mind, threatening to send him into a frenzy, but he didn't let it show. He didn't want Hermione catching wind of how he had been thinking of her lately. "I'm game," he simply said, keeping his voice even and holding out his hand to seal the deal.

Hermione grinned wildly, giving Harry only a second to reconsider before she took his hand in hers, whipped out her wand, and tapped their hands. A ghastly green mist formed over their handshake, making Harry frown. Ghastly green mists never meant anything good. "What did you just do?" he asked, holding up his hand and looking at it with concern even as he saw that nothing about it had changed.

"Oh, just a little spell to keep the loser from worming out of our bet," she said innocently. "Trying to get out of it will give you an unbearable itch you won't be able to get rid of no matter how much you scratch it. Oh, and it'll be right where you don't want people seeing you scratching." Some laughs went up from the people within earshot of Hermione.

"That's evil," Harry said. "But I never had any intention of worming out of anything."

"Oi!" Ron suddenly called. Harry pulled his attention away from Hermione as he turned and saw Ron waiting impatiently, hands on hips. "We ever gonna play or are you two just going to stand over there and flirt all night?"

Harry froze. Had his intentions really been so obvious that _Ron_ had noticed? If that was the case, there was no way Hermione hadn't noticed. "I wasn't—"

"We weren't flirting, Ronald," Hermione said briskly, mirroring Ron with her hands on her hips but sending a very different message. "We were just making things interesting, but we're ready now. Let's play."

Harry felt a tinge of disappointment as Hermione confirmed that she had not, in fact, been flirting with him, even though he already knew it to be the case. He felt a bit stupid for being disappointed about it, but he couldn't help himself. The recent feelings he had been having about his female best friend were quickly compounding as he spent more and more time with her. He was hoping the feelings would eventually stop, but there were no signs of that happening any time soon.

He didn't have time to dwell on those confusing thoughts as Ron took a ready stance, cupping the ball in his left hand and holding his wand in his right. The crowd chanted as Ron tossed the ball up, and as it fell, he slashed his wand at it and said, "_Depulso!_"

The banishing charm sent the light ball hurtling through the air at a decent clip. Unsurprisingly, given Ron's skill even when hammered, the ball went straight into a cup, which magically removed itself from the formation and floated between Harry and Hermione. Cheers erupted from the onlookers as the two of them stared at the cup for a second, before Harry grinned and said, "Ladies first."

The resulting glare Hermione gave him lost its effect as a smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. She pulled the ball out of the cup and handed it to Harry, then started drinking while the crowd egged her on. Harry, meanwhile, took a ready stance. The cups next to Ron and Parvati seemed to go in and out of focus as the effects of the Firewhisky shots began to set in, but he picked a cup to aim for anyway, tossed the ball up and banished it...straight into the ceiling. It ricocheted off at an angle and plinked off Ron's forehead satisfyingly.

"Oi!" he cried as cheers and laughs sounded off from the crowd.

"Sorry about that. I'm a little rusty," Harry said to Hermione, ignoring Ron.

She held up a finger as she finished off her cup, and Harry tried and failed to keep from staring at her slender neck as she swallowed the last of it. When it was all down, she tossed the cup aside and licked her lips. "It's okay, Harry. I'll put you on my back and carry us to victory, then I'll make a crazy demand that you can't say no to," she said sweetly.

"_Depulso!_" Parvati cried, and Harry looked over just as the ball hit the rim of a cup and fall the floor.

Hermione _accio_-ed the ball from the floor and took a stance that made it clear she had never played before. Harry suddenly didn't feel so worried about the bet he had made with Hermione.

"_Depulso!_"

Cheers erupted as the ball cleanly sank into the bottom cup of the formation, which was the only cup without another to the left or right of it—a decidedly difficult shot to sink. Hermione smirked at him, letting the cheers speak for themselves as Parvati downed the beer. Harry suddenly felt worried about the bet he had made with Hermione.

"I'm being hustled," he said disbelievingly as Ron sank another shot.

Hermione grabbed the cup and held it out to him. "Nonsense," she said, the syllables slurring together. "Drink."

Harry took the cup, but before he drank, he took another shot. Thankfully he sunk this one, and he wordlessly raised an eyebrow at her before he started chugging.

The game progressed somewhat quickly, at least on Ron and Parvati's side as Ron sank shot after shot, and before long Harry and Hermione had only one cup remaining to Ron and Parvati's four. Harry and Hermione stood at three potted balls apiece and the two of them were thoroughly drunk at this point—at one point Harry fell over while tipping a cup back and the crowd had to help him back on his feet. Landing a shot at this point was proving to be nearly impossible, hard as it was to focus on anything but standing up straight.

It was Hermione's shot, and Harry watched as she stared ahead at the cups with laser focus even as she swayed back and forth, flushed with alcohol and covered in a thin sheen of sweat just as Harry was. The ball went in the air, Hermione's wand flicked, and cheers went up once more as she sank her fourth, putting her in the lead over Harry. She reached over and gave him a high-five, a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye. Harry, who had been keeping his expression neutral, couldn't help but smile back even with impending doom lingering over his head.

Ron took the ball.

"Mate, do me a favor and miss this one," Harry said. "I don't want to do whatever embarrassing thing Hermione's going to make me do."

Ron grinned.

"Ron, please," Harry pleaded. "I will get on my knees and beg if that's what you want."

"Sorry, mate," Ron said. "You had your chance."

The ball practically whistled through the air with the force Ron banished it with, and Harry's heart leapt to his throat. He needed to win the bet. Or, more accurately, he couldn't afford to lose it. Before it even passed cleanly into the cup, though, Harry knew it was going in. Anyone could tell it was a hell of a shot the instant Ron's spell hit it.

Ron and Parvati hugged each other and jumped up and down as Harry held the tenth and final cup in hand, a grimace on his face. He had lost, and the crowd was letting him know it, chanting as he downed the beer in one go. He tried to ignore the smug look Hermione was giving him as he drank, his mind full of possible demands she might make of him. She had the power in her hands to make this a night to remember for all the wrong reasons.

"You're a bad winner," Harry muttered as he tossed the cup aside.

"You're damn right I am," Hermione taunted. She was flushed and sweaty, she had a huge smile on her face, and her normally milk-chocolate brown eyes were dark and rich. Harry couldn't help but think in that instant that he had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. He wanted to say something so badly—to let her know what he was feeling—and he was just about to, but the door suddenly opened and Harry caught sight of red hair as Ginny stormed out of the flat and slammed the door shut behind her, clearly seeing something she didn't like. Harry was too drunk to tell if it was because of something he had done, but then he realized he didn't really care either way. He was just thankful that she had timed her exit perfectly—she had broken the trance Harry had been in before he said something stupid.

Dean stepped forward and began filling more cups so he could play Seamus, which shunted Harry and Hermione into the crowd. After realizing just how intoxicated he was, Harry decided it might be a good idea to make a beeline for the couch, but Hermione’s hand was suddenly in his and she began pulling him to the door Ginny had just left through. He was so focused on staying on his feet that he didn't bother trying to fight or question her.

The night sky, which was now clear and with a full moon hanging low and pretty, had grown even colder in the two or three hours they had been in the party, and this time they didn't have their coats. Luckily, however, they had Hermione, and after the front door closed behind them, she fumbled with her wand for a second or two before managing to cast a warming charm on them.

"I needed some fresh air," she said as they walked down the sidewalk away from Ron's house, hands still interlocked. "Also, I am completely trashed."

Harry laughed. "Does that mean I should be more or less afraid for what's to come?"

"Hmmm," Hermione mused. "Who ever said I was gonna make you do something horrible? What if I only ever wanted to beat you at something and lord it over you like I'm doing now?"

Harry gave her the most skeptical look he could muster.

Hermione laughed. "Okay, fine. Originally it was going to be something boring like...I don't know...becoming a spokesperson for my House Elf laws, but now I think I want to be a little more selfish than that."

Harry laughed and pulled her closer to him until their shoulders were touching. The consequences of acting on his feelings were seeming less and less important as the night went on, and he couldn’t help but be a bit greedy. "And now? What could be more selfish than using me for political reasons?" After thinking about it for a second, he added, "And who said you would have to use your one free demand to get me to help you pass those laws? I know how passionate you are about that and I've seen how hard you work. You know I would do it in a heartbeat if you asked."

Hermione suddenly stopped in her tracks, and Harry did the same a step later. She was looking at him with eyes full of pride and...something else Harry couldn't quite put his finger on. It was the same something that had been giving him such confusing thoughts lately, and he still couldn't quite place it.

"Are you about to hurl?" he asked, concerned. She had drank a lot.

"Kiss me," she whispered.

"What?" he said dumbly.

"That's my demand," she said, her voice breathy. She stepped so close to him that he could feel her breath against his neck. His heart rate spiked. "Kiss me right now."

Under any other circumstances, Harry wouldn't have to be told twice. Hermione was practically pressed up against him, eyes dark and clouded with desire, and the lovely fragrance she had worn for the party was practically making his head spin. It was what he had been dreaming of for months now come to life. He could easily use this as the perfect excuse to kiss her and hold her and do everything else he wanted to do with her, but...

"You're drunk," he said softly. "Let's think things through before anything crazy happens."

"We agreed that there would be no weaseling—"

"Stop," he said as gently as he could. "You could use your demand on anything else in the world right now and both of us can walk away from this laughing and happy. This is serious."

"I don't want to use it on anything else," she insisted.

"Why?" he demanded, growing annoyed that she seemed unable to understand the potential consequences of going through with this.

Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, he saw clarity and frustration. "Because I know you'll never take the risk otherwise."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, confused. _She can't be implying what I think she's implying..._

"Harry, I've been trying to get you to kiss me for almost six months now, and you've come close, but I can see it in your eyes every time when you do the 'noble' thing and decide against it at the last second," she said, agitated. "I've thought about this for a long time and I'm tired of—"

Harry pressed his lips against hers, electricity racing through him from the contact, but the moment was brief. The sudden movement was too much for Harry's impaired brain to handle, and as he went down, he took Hermione, who he had clung on to for dear life, down with him.

"Are you okay?" he asked immediately, heart racing for a different reason now. The fall wasn't too hard, and the snow had cushioned him a bit, but he hadn't had a seventy-five-kilo man yank him down, either.

He relaxed as he realized that Hermione had fallen on top of him and was laughing in his ear. "I said kiss me, not tackle me."

"Well how am I supposed to do that when your mouth is over by my ear?" he demanded.

She propped herself up and smiled down at him, her hair tickling his face. The moonlight gave her an ethereal halo that made her look more magical than anything anybody had ever done with a wand.

"Do you think it would count if you kissed me?" he asked quietly.

Hermione slowly lowered herself until her full weight was atop him and their noses were brushing. "Let's find out," she whispered.

Their second kiss was everything their first should have been. It was long and slow and perfect. It was exactly what Harry needed to assure himself this wasn't a mistake. They were a perfect fit—from the way their bodies molded together to the way their mouths moved in perfect harmony, making Harry feel more than a bit silly for ever having any doubt about whether this was a good idea. Everything felt right in that moment in a way that nothing ever had before.

He had never felt this way during a kiss—not with Cho and definitely not with Ginny. In that single instant he came to realize just how much being with Hermione meant to him. Everything else that had ever happened in his life paled in comparison to this moment. He never wanted to let her go. He never wanted her to leave his side again. He wanted this moment to last forever.

But moments didn't last forever no matter how much Harry wanted them to, and this particular moment eventually came to an end as Hermione propped herself back up again, her face flushed from something other than heat or alcohol for the first time that night.

"That was even better than expected," she said, nearly breathless.

Harry licked his lips and nodded. "You were right. I should have done that a long time ago."

Hermione laughed and let herself fall on top of him so she could bury her face in the crook of his neck. "This is one of the happiest moments of my life."

Harry couldn't help but agree. "You're that happy even though you were so wrong about something?" he asked.

"What was I wrong about?" The words were muffled, and they tickled his neck. It sparked a certain sense of pride in Harry that even being called out for being wrong wasn't enough to get Hermione indignant at that moment.

"You didn't have to use your demand to get me to kiss you, either. You could have just asked."

"I know," she replied. Before Harry could voice his confusion, she added, "But it was the only thing I wanted."

Her words carried a weight that left Harry unable to reply while also sparking immense joy in him, warming him from the very core of his being. After the Battle of Hogwarts, he didn't think he deserved happiness like this, and he certainly didn't think he would ever obtain it.

Then something occurred to him. "I know Ginny will throw a fit, so it doesn't really matter what we say to her, but what about Ron?" he asked, suddenly worried. He was so wrapped up in worry about ruining his friendship with Hermione that he hadn't even considered the feelings of their mutual best friend. He and Hermione had split on excellent terms, but that didn't mean it would suddenly be okay for Harry to become romantically involved with her. He couldn’t afford to lose Ron.

"You think Ron challenging you to beer Quidditch and me being inexplicably good at a game I've never played before was a coincidence?" she asked, chuckling. "He just wants us to be happy, believe it or not."

Harry was happy to hear it, but something else stood out to him. "You're telling me I really was hustled, then?" he asked in disbelief.

Hermione propped herself up and kissed him briefly before disentangling herself from him and standing up. "I'll make it up to you," she said as she brushed herself off. She held out a hand afterward and helped Harry to his feet. The snow he had been lying on had melted under him and his back was wet because of it, which seemed a small price to pay for what he got in return. "Say...tomorrow night after our hangovers have worn off?"

"Are you asking me out on a date?" Harry asked teasingly, taking her warm, soft hand in his after fixing his clothes. They began walking back toward Ron's flat. "Very forward of you. What did you have in mind?"

"I've had a list of places ready to go since the moment I realized I wanted this to happen. We can choose something fun."

Harry knew it was too corny to say aloud, but he was sure he would have fun no matter where they went, so long as she was with him.

Life was fun, and while it wasn't exactly easy, it wasn't quite as hard as before.

Finally, everything made perfect sense.


End file.
